


The Spark

by Lilithisbitter



Series: The Lady or the Tiger [1]
Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: Bring your tissues for this one, Darkfic, F/M, The Rough Patch Revisited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilithisbitter/pseuds/Lilithisbitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a coin, every story has two sides. This is the side of the Rough Patch that Ted Mosby never saw. Barney Stinson's side. He only thought he was saving Robin Scherbatsky from discovering the monster he really was. He had no idea of the mess he would leave in his wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act O: The One That You Put On a Pedestal

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Wait... don't run. While this fic does cover The Rough Patch among other episodes, Barney Stinson does not become morbidly obese. It instead asks the logical question... what if Barney Stinson was really wearing a fat suit the whole time? I played around with this concept in my head for over a year until recently. Somebody on the Barney/Robin LJ group watched The Rough Patch and it inspired me to finally start writing this. So, thank you. Thank you everyone for inspiring me.

Barney loves Robin, that’s never ever been in doubt.

Wait for it.

\---

“So, why are you here today?” Dr. Grossbard asked, pencil at ready over his notebook. It was a simple enough question. “Is there anything you want to discuss with me?” He paused for a moment, pencil tapping the paper before continuing. “Anything? Anything at all?”

The man in the chair hummed before he absentmindedly picked at one of the threads of his sweatshirt. It was oversized and faded relic of yesteryear, Cornell University printed on it in cracked silk print. Normally he would have worn expensive suits, tailored to his tall, slim frame. Today, he wore battered jeans, ancient Chuck Taylors in addition to the sweatshirt. They hung on his already slim but muscular frame. According to admitting, he was fifteen pounds underweight. “Because I checked myself in,” came the overly cryptic reply. “That’s all.”

Barnaby Stinson had always been one of Grossbard’s toughest patients since he had come to him at the age of 23. He hadn’t wanted to be helped then and was still resisting help now in his own way. Still, this was a start. “Tell me, what led you to checking yourself in?”

Barney shrugged hastily, eyes darting away. It was a rather graceless shrug, more of a twitch combined with a spasm with a jerk thrown in for good measure really. “Bad week. Bad month. Here to get more awesome.” His fingers tensed around a pack of filtered Marlboros. “Mind if I smoke, Doc? This is totally messing with my style.”

“You can have a cigarette break later.” Dr. Grossbard’s hand extended. “I’m going to need to take those for the time being. This is a nonsmoking room.”

Barney scowled and handed the pack over before intentionally scuffing his feet on the antique chair he sat on. “I had a bad month,” he repeated. I’m taking a week off to be awesome again. No one needs to know.” Quietly he added, “I’m writing a playbook.”

\---

It’s not his feelings that have ever, ever, ever been in question. He just doesn’t know how to deal with something like this. Every TV show and movie he’s seen says this is wrong; that guys like him never get happy ends. He’s pretty sure he’s the villain. And villains never get the girl. 

If you want a hero; you bag yourself a Ted. And he, Barney Stinson, has never been a Ted.

Robin deserves much better than him. Robin doesn’t deserve a jerk like him. Robin’s riding this on some weird sense of obligation and she probably knows it’s doomed. She’s just doing it for his sake. He still loves her. So, he wants to save her.

All he has to do is say “I break up with you.” Simple easy.

Robin will come to her senses and get back together with Ted. Barney will keep on pretending to smile, because he’s the bad guy and bad guys never win. Robin will walk down the aisle with Ted and maybe just maybe if she goes totally insane, will have Ted’s Tedspawn Luke and Leia. Ted’s great. Ted’s awesome. Ted’s not broken.

Barney is…

Keep on waiting.

Barney loves Robin, that’s not his problem.

His problem is their arguments. He told Ted he walks out of the apartment to avoid arguments, but in reality, it’s always Robin walking out the door. And him? He went down on her like a bitch, he’s not going to admit to that.

Wait for it. Please. Wait a little longer.

Terminally broken. There’s just something wrong with him and it was just a matter time before she saw it.

He just can’t go through with it. He was too weak to say those words and be some degree of honest with her.

That’s why he did what he did.

\---

“A bad month?” Grossbard asked, pencil darting over the notepad. “This problem seems to be more than a bad month. Plenty of people have bad months, but I get the impression that for you this wasn’t the only bad month.”

Barney was never good at reading upside down. His teeth chomped a well-manicured thumbnail into ruin, pondering what to say next. Talking to Grossbard wasn’t the same as talking to a chick. “Um, okay… I lied,” he whined. “Bad months, but you would not believe the summer I had.” His triumphant tone at the end withered at the look on the Doctor’s aged face. 

“You checked in saying you feared for your safety, Mr. Stinson,” the Psychiatrist stated grimly. “I hardly think that this is the suitable time for joking.” He shoved his spectacles up his beak of a nose with his free hand. “Now, from the beginning, Barnaby.” 

Barney cleared his throat, for once, really at a loss for words. “Well, it kinda starts earlier than that. In a bar. Our bar. MacLaren’s Pub. It’s a long story.”

“You’re paid up for the week so to speak,” came the reply. Damn, Grossboard was stubborn as he was. “I have the time. And so do you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

He found himself blinking out of nerves. An equally nervous smile crossed Barney’s face, a bit sad, but a smile all the same. “So I am. Huh.”

\---

Barney loves Robin.

He just doesn’t think she loves him back. 

He understands that.

That’s why he had to rig his own break up.


	2. Act I: And I Just Can’t Contain This Feeling That Remains

Barney never set out to be a monster. 

It really wasn’t on his checklist of things to do and back when he was munching granola, he had no idea he was already one.

He was broken. He came from a broken home. His father, Bob Barker had left and his cool Uncle Jerry had gone splitsville after he knocked down the model of the blue whale. 

He always figured he could ignore it. He was good at ignoring things if they didn’t fit in with his vision with how the world worked. So he ignored his broken home life and his classmates calling his mom a whore. It was difficult. Barney was small for his age and had been skipped ahead a grade.

So, Barney did what any kid did and starting ignoring life. They figured he had ADHD. His mom just thought her youngest was lazy and tore the script for the medication they gave her in little pieces before flush it down the toilet. They both were wrong.

Barney could never explain it. He liked learning; he just didn’t like the people around him. So, he missed out on classes where he was teased the worst. He never really fit in, the outcast, the pariah, the joke, the failure. He was the stick figure of a kid who was a year younger with glasses and clothes that constantly smelled like cigarette smoke, the ears the stuck out through a mop of wild blond curls, who played Dungeons and Dragons by himself, and had a battered Ewoks lunchbox.

He just didn’t fit in. 

He was the outcast. 

Barney the suck up. 

Barney the screw up. 

Even the girls hated him. No, worse than that… girls loathed him. Barney would never admit to that. Not even when they locked him in the coatroom over the holidays. His mom was out of town flashing her boobs at a Van Halen concert, but Barney was in denial about that. She was the greatest mom in the world. She wasn’t a shrill as everyone said she was. And just because he had to do the majority of the cooking because she could burn water, didn’t mean she was bad. She was learning how to cook simple things and she could always make a good ice cream sundae. 

Only one part of his head told him how wrong that was and he was very good at shutting that part up.

He never went to prom. Kids like him never did. He stayed home and watched movies where 20 something pretending to be teenagers went to proms. Besides, he was so young looking, he’d stick out and his hair was so long, he’d be mistaken for a girl. He told himself that he didn’t want it.

Barney never set out to be a monster. When he was a kid, monsters scared the crap out of him. Monsters were bad, all wrong. A monster was the last thing he ever wanted to be.

It just happened. 

Complete unhappy accident 

Opposite of serendipity.

Barney never set out to be a monster.

Barney had set out to become legen… 

Wait for it…

\---

“Right,” Barney said, a little too false chipper for the look on his face and by the way his fists were clenched, that was pretty much a given. “Where was I?”

“MacLaren’s Pub, I believe. You spend a lot of time there.”

“Well, we all spent a lot of time there,” Barney said, teeth gritted in obvious irritation, a partial fourth line etching its way on his brow. “It’s the New York bar scene. I am Ted’s wingman after all. The Goose to his Maverick.”

Dr. Grossbard wrote down, ‘Patient still exhibits belief that life would be better if he was in a fictional story.’ “But Barney, doesn’t Goose die in Top Gun? Wouldn’t you rather be Iceman? It’s quite a worrying view that you pick the character who doesn’t make through the movie alive.”

Barney shrugged, fingers still twitching for a cigarette. “So are you sure I can’t smoke just one? Just one little smoke for Barnabas, Doc?”

“You know your name is Barnaby, not Barnabas. You’re not Greek,” Grossbard said curtly. 

“I could be,” came the little chirped reply. “And they would say, ‘There stands Barnabas Stinson. His penis was enormous.’ My statue would be nude.” He grinned crookedly and gestured at his crotch. “And erect. To scale.”

“Rather off subject.” He could feel a migraine bubbling up toward his temples. Somehow Stinson brought that out in him. 

“So, he said, how about them smokes?” Barney asked again.

“You know the policy. It hasn’t changed since you walked in.”

“You’re killing me here,” came the piteous reply from the man who was more child than adult. “Just one smoke. You don’t need to tell anyone. No one needs to know.” He slouched down in the chair, trying obviously for the poor Barney nobody loves him and nobody ever will routine. “Give up one cigarette for a dying man.”

“No.” When Barney insisted on reverting to a child, it typically meant one was prone to treating him like a child. 

“I’ll be your best friend.”

“We’re a doctor and patient.”

“I’ll have my accountants cook your books.”

“No. And isn’t that illegal?”

“Fine. One cigarette. I’ll tell you the story instead of remaining silent the whole time.”

Then why won’t you shut up? Dr. Grossbard wanted to say, but it was hardly professional. Barney always tried his patience. “One cigarette. One story. I don’t see how that hurts things.” Doctor Grossbard withdrew a singular cigarette and passed it over.

The look on Barney’s face was sheer rapture as soon as his fingers closed around the paper. Immediately, his first action was to bring it up to his nose and sniff it. It was a Barney thing. “Oh. My. God. Thank you. Thank you so much. I have been craving a smoke like you wouldn’t believe…” Barney trailed off and looked at Grossbard. “Don’t I get a light?”

“You didn’t ask for a light. As I recall, you asked for one cigarette.”

“Fine,” Barney said, scowl already on his face. “You only get the first bit of my story. I want a light for my cigarette if I’m going to tell any more of it.” He tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “You win this time, mental health dude. Right. So it begins in a bar. Way back in 2005.”

“2005, wasn’t that when you met a Miss-“

“Doc, don’t interrupt me. I’m trying to tell a story here. It was 2005 and things were awesome. And then Marshall had to ruin the thing the whole kit and kaboodle by making Ted aware of his shrinking ovaries…”

Dr. Grossbard resumed his endless writing.

\---

2005

The test market for typing out lyrics to your favorite AC/DC song in order to appear busy had worked better than Barney had ever hoped. Busy implied how important businessperson he was without leaking confidential business out to the public and apparently girls found that surprisingly hot. He was currently typing out Black in Back when Carl set a drink order that wasn’t his behind his laptop. 

Barney ignored it. He was getting into the grove. His fingers were flying. He was thoroughly, completely rockupied. He never noticed the babe in the green sweater trying to reach around him. Well, okay, if Barney had to be honest, he did notice her perfect perky wool covered sweater kittens the instant they started bouncing. The body they were attached to was annoyed. “Hey, pretty boy, that’s not your drink order.”

He closed his laptop and turned on his most charming smile. The gal those perfect all natural breasts were attached was equally perfect and all natural. A quick glance over with extra time spent on those boob shaped boobs revealed dark hair, blue eyes, smile a little toothier than he liked, and a lot more intelligent than he definitely liked. Green Sweater Girl leaned on the bar. “So, like what you see?”

Barney grinned back. He could play this game with the best of them. “So,” he echoed back. “Do you like me liking what I see?”

“That depends if I can have my drinks?”

“Of course.” Tucking away his laptop into his silver briefcase, he flashed her another winning grin that was sure to get her weak in the knees. Barney met her eyes, conveying innocence even as his elbowed knocked every single vodka cranberry off. “Oh no. Clumsy me. I’m so sorry.” Play up the hopeless goof angle. He had seen Ted do this once, but completely on accident. Even if had looked like Ted peed his pants. Total panty peeler. “Let me make it up for you by getting you and your friends a fresh round of drinks?”

“Does that work on everyone or just the dumb ones?” Green Sweater Girl was shaking her head, smile widening to expose her gums. Ordinarily, he would have been turned off, but on her, it looked pretty damned good. “But yes. A round of drinks on you.”

“Not literally, I hope. With a package like this.” Barney gestured at himself. “What do you think?”

She studied him, tapped her finger against her jaw, whilst making little hmmming and hawing sounds. Which got Barney nervous. No girl had ever taken her damned sweet time in coming up with an opinion about his awesomeness. It was really pissing him off.

\---

“That’s a symptom of your Narcissistic personality disorder,” Grossbard observed over his clipboard. “Needing others to tell you that you’re still worth something in the world. I know that’s hard for you to see in yourself, but-”

“No, it’s not,” Barney insisted. In his hands, the cigarette was being wrung into shreds by his wringing. “Did you have to interrupt me to point that out? I’m perfectly awesome. Anyway… girl… bar… that was Robin.”

Grossbard flipped through the file. “Ahh, yes, Miss Scherbatsky. How does Ted’s ex-girlfriend play into this?”

“Well, I haven’t been honest with you.”

Barney swore his doctor muttered, “Well that’s obvious.” Or maybe he was clearing his throat. “Is this related to why you checked yourself in?”

“Maybe,” Barney squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I mean… what’s it to you, shrink dude? Don’t you have better things to do?” He cleared his throat again, louder. “Like hypnotize people and stuff?”

All he got was a flat stare of doom from the man.

“It was only a joke,” he admitted, lamely. “Can’t you shrink dudes take a joke?”

\---

She smirked. Not a good sign. Never a good sign. Barney could see her IQ shining through and damn it was high. “I think you should fire your barber.” 

Barney scoffed. “I don’t go to a barber. I go to a stylist.”

The smirk only got bigger. She saluted him with his own glass of scotch. “Ahh. One of those guys. Gotcha. But you should fire him or her.”

“What do you mean?”

Green Sweater Girl tilted her head to the side, smirk already spreading across her face. She was so damned unreadable. Typically he could figure out a cutlet in no time at all. But this girl was reading all of his plays and batting them right back in his face…

\---

“I know that girl is Robin, no need to give her a fake name.”

Barney scowled. “You have no air for drama, sir.” He did a quick double take. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been your therapist for years,” came the cryptic reply. And then came the less cyptic follow up. “You already told me, a few minutes ago. Your friend Ted-“

“Best friend,” Barney quickly corrected. 

“Best friend had met a girl named Robin Scherbatsky. A girl in a green sweater. You considered that he was,” Dr. Grossbard checked his notes, “Going all castrati over her. That was from an older conversation. I keep extensive notes. Go on.”

Barney stuck out his tongue and proceeded to give a rather angry sounding raspberry. 

\---

Robin tilted her head to the side. “To be blunt, you look like a used Q-tip.”

His hands immediately went up to cup themselves over his hair. “A what? Madame, I demand an explanation!”

She twoinged one of his curls. “You’re a tall skinny guy with a big head and somebody gave you a haircut that’s kinda a bit on the puffy side. You kinda look like a used Q-tip.” She took that opportunity to swipe his drink. 

“You… your used Q-tip,” he fumbled. “And that’s mine.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m seeing any of these drink replacements you promised.” Robin sipped from her stolen scotch, looking rather triumphant. “Where was I? Ahhh… yes. The suit looks good on you, bur how do I know you didn’t stuff the crotch?”

Barney leaned in and smirked. “Well, because you’d know if I stuffed the crotch.” He grabbed the crotch of his suit for emphasize. “All natural. This time.”

Her chuckle this time was warm and welcome. “Hm, maybe I would like to see it.” Okay. That was with a wee bit of sarcasm, but she was interested. 

“Maybe more?” He leaned and whispered. “You want to do more to it, right? Got a complete package for baby. Perfect abs, flat stomach, ass you could bounce quarters off-“

“Legs that go on for miles,” Robin interrupted. 

“No,” he said. Moment was totally broken and ruined. “Now you make me sound like a girl. Why did you hafta go and ruin that?” 

She shrugged casually. “I’ve got a friend who is going through a break up. Now she’s making us all suffer by proxy.”

“And now, you’re making others suffer?” Barney wasn’t quite sure he was getting this. “What shit sense is that? Couldn’t you be happy and bang someone and make them happy?” He then wished he could take that back and waited for the eminent slap.

There was no slap or drink in face or for that matter, knee in his groin. Robin smiled. All teeth this time, but this time it wasn’t mean. She even let out a good-natured chuckle. “Heh, blondie, I think I like your attitude, even if your hair looks like a used Q-tip.”

“Myhairdoesntlooklikeauseqtip,” he mumbled, feeling dejected.

\---

“So? How did you feel about that?”

Barney blinked.

Grossbard had put down his pencil and was looking at Barney now with those unreadable eyes of his past his glasses. That was one of the things Barney hated about him. He just had to go around being so unreadable and having a real British accent. “I assume that this story has something to do with why you’re here.”

There was a moment of silence. Barney cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just deflecting. I’ve been told I’m very good at that.” 

“Maybe you know this plays into the grand scheme of everything,” his therapist finally said. The meaning of what he said hung in the air and couldn’t be taken back. “If you didn’t need my help, you wouldn’t be here.”

Barney toasted with an invisible glass of scotch. “Well played sir.”

\---

… Dary

But he became a monster anyway.


	3. Act II: Dynamite With a Laser Beam

2009

“Barney… you lied to me.” Why did Robin have to look at him with those eyes.

“I… I’m sorry.” The words fell off his tongue like clay, clumsy and so unlike him. “I wish I could take it back.” The shower pounded at his back as he stood in front of her.

She could see the lie for herself, the pieces of that damnable fat suit scattered around the bathroom, so he could stride out into the world, to show everyone how breaking up was the best decision that either of them could have made. Because it was wrong. Ir was utterly wrong. In this world… nobody had faith in them and that was why it had to end. Fade into dust, so to speak.

And then a voice at the back corner of his mind piped up like the traitor it was and asked “Was it really? It was just a rough patch.”

“Is that all you can say? I’m sorry?” 

Robin’s glare was a lesser version of Lily’s “Your dead to me look.” He shrank under it all the same. If he had to come with a name for it, he would called it her, “You’re nothing at all to me look.” Barney’s perfectly sculptured chest and flat stomach with his wasp-like waist gleamed with water, perfectly wrong and the truth under the layers of fat. “I can explain. I…”

Robin only shook her head and gestured at the fat suit. “I came up here, ready to give us a second chance and here I find out you’ve been lying all this time?” She waved her hand at Barney. “You lying son of a bitch. I came back, because I didn’t fall in love with you for your looks. Heck, I would have unhooked you from a bra. That’s love, bitch.”

Barney’s lip quivered. “Wait… you… you… you... oh… love me… really-really? It’s not like with Ted? Not you’re not humoring me?”

She sighed and looked older and sicker than she had before. “Barney… why?”

Pointing at her, Barney said, “Because you were killing yourself for me. You’re not healthy, Robin. I want my Robin, not some dredged up corpse.” As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back.

“So now we know why that girl tried to kill you with a brick!” she snapped.

“Take it back,” he begged. “Please. We broke up on good terms. As the fat man and old lady. We get pretty and we heal.”

Robin shook her head in disgust. “I am pretty,” she said, shaking her freshly washed hair. He could see that she had put on make up, put concealer on the circles under her blue eyes and treated that bit of acne. “I’m always pretty, Barnaby.” He winced when she called him that. It sounded way too stiff and formal. “You’re pretty too. It’s just your insides are ugly.”

And that hurt worst of all.

“Robin… please…” His voice cracked.

“I understand,” she whispered. “Well, you can have your perfect lie. Put on your best suit and meet me at MacLaren’s. You’ll get over me. Everyone always does.”

“I don’t think I can,” he whispered.

“Damnit, Barney,” Robin said. “Don’t make this so hard. This is your easy out. Take it.”

“How?” he asked hollowly. She should have never come here, never caught him in a lie. “It’s not like I have a playbook for these things.”

“Then write one,” she said. “If that’s how you get over me, do that. Be heartless again. Heck, this whole fat suit thing was pretty heartless.”

“I-I-I didn’t mean it!”

“Well… what did it mean?!” Robin screamed. “Because it had meaning to me.”

“I…”

\---

“You didn’t let that woman get to you… did you?” Dr. Grossbard asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

Barney scoffed. Did the damned British man always have to pursue everything to its inevitable conclusion? “Course not. I’m totally untouchable.”

\---

2005

“I cannot stand that woman,” Barney groused as his hairdresser fussed with his hair. Already half of his hair was up in foils, slathered in chemicals. “Seriously… what’s Ted chopping his balls off for?”

“She’s pretty,” Lily said from the opposite chair, beauty magazine already at ready. She flipped it down and gave Barney’s hair an appraising look. “Why the new look, Doll Face? I know I don’t ordinarily call you Doll Face, but if you go that blond and that short, you might as well be Doll Face.”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Barney ordered.

Lily rolled her eyes and almost put her headphones back on. “Kinda sad how much Ted is going gaga over Miss Canada.” She paused and added, “Doll Face.” She giggled when Barney whined out of irritation. “I’ll stop when you stop reacting.” Another pause. “Man, it’s getting old already. I’ll shelve it for later.”

Barney glowered. “She has poor taste in hair. Clearly if she went gaga for Ted’s overly gelled quaff instead of yours truly beautiful do.”

“Screw her!” Lily automatically chirped, “Your hair made you look cute. At least keep it that length. I like the curls.” She didn’t take it back. Barney knew that Lily had a hidden lesbian side and she probably did want to literally screw Robin.

Not that he blamed her. Dark hair, blue eyes, legs up to there… legs that would look amazing wrapped around his waist as her nails racked down his back. Glancing in the mirror at his half-done up hair, Barney looked back at Lily. “Cute? No way, Red. I’m many things…. glorious things. Well endowed in more ways than one. I’m not cute. I’m definitely going for a new look.”

“I think the peroxide is seeping into your brain,” Lily ideally commented. “She is cute though. Way out of Ted’s league.” She flipped through her magazine some more. “Way out of your league too, Barney. She’s too good for you.”

“Hrmph,” Barney said. “Nobody is too good for me. Wouldn’t you say so, Claudette? You’d do me?” He looked up at his hairdresser and fluttered his eyelashes to their best advantage.

“Not for a million dollars,” Claudette said. “You’ve got girly eyelashes and I’m old enough to be your grandmother. Now stop squirming before you get chemicals in your eyes.”

Lily giggled behind her magazine.

“Oh shut up,” he said. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Red.”

\---

That night was his mother’s birthday. He really wasn’t in the mood of parading around his fake family again; he called in the process of making a cake. It was one of the few times his kitchen actually had food ingredients in it. Every time Barney baked it was a risky move. Girls drawn by the smell of good cooking always lingered around the door, wanting to become the next Mrs. Barney Stinson like his fake wife Betty.

It wasn’t that Barney set out to be an amazing cook (which he was); he just grew tired of living off peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches and gummy bears. Cutlets had a way of zooming in one homemade food. They had some sort of freaky radar for homemade food, for a place that actually felt like a home. Barney had once had to fight a cutlet off with a porn tape after he had accidentally left a package of breath mints on the counter. He didn’t know how she did it, but she had somehow entered into his life and down his pants.

\---

“That wasn’t how you told me the story the first time,” Dr. Grossbard corrected, feeling a headache coming on.

“I found a better way to tell it this time,” Barney whined. “Okay?”

Grossbard decided not to mention the fact that Loretta had figured out that Betty and little “Tyler’ were fake. Not only that, she had approached Grossbard on what to do with Barney’s “fake family”. “Wait for Barney to come to grips with why he needs to lie to you,” he had said.

“I know,” Loretta had said, “But he borrows babies and last time, it was a bag of flour and a Chucky mask.”

Grossbard removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily, remembering what he had told Loretta, to just work with the delusions in the world Barney had built for himself. Years later, Grossbard had to admit, that Barney was a most trying patient. “Of course. It does sound much better now.”

The frown that was starting on Barney’s face turned into a slight smile. “Heh, told you so.”

\---

“Hey, mom,” Barney said, cradling the phone between his head and shoulder. “Betty’s not going to make it tonight.”

“Awww,” his mom’s voice came over the receiver, “Will little Tyler come over?”

Barney shifted the phone as he tried to think of a good excuse. His bare toes drummed against the tile as he resisted the urge to scratch his balls. He had already scrubbed down in preparation for naked cooking and didn’t want to clean down again. “Tyler has chicken pox.”

He forgot that Tyler had a bout of chicken pox last month.

“Awww, that’s too bad.” He didn’t realize at the time that Loretta didn’t sound all that disappointed. “James is already here. Say hi, James.”

There was a pause as the phone was passed over. Barney used the brief gap to check the recipe again. “Hi James,” James said.

They both cracked up. “Hey yourself,” Barney said. “What up?”

“Got a new suit. Legendary. You?”

“Got a new haircut,” he said. “One second. I’ve got to turn on the mixer.”

As soon as he was finished, James asked, “So, didn’t you get a new haircut last week?”

“It went out of fashion,” Barney said sourly, preparing the cake pans for the batter. “This one makes my cheekbones pop.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the gay one,” James teased. “How’s the cut?”

“My ears are cold,” he said automatically. Lily was right. It was short. Damn her. “How’s the suit?”

“Awesome as per use. Stop changing the subject.”

Barney grumbled and poured in the batter. “I wasn’t changing the subject.”

“Also, you better be wearing clothes while cooking mom’s cake. I know you have your weird ways, but do them on your own time. Wear jeans if you’re so worried about your suits.”

“But… but…” Barney whined.

“You have normal clothes, Barnaby,” James said patiently in his best big brother voice. “I’ve seen them while cleaning up your place of all those weird sex toys when you ask me.” His mom must have been out of the room. “Mom, tell Barney to put some pants on while cooking.”

There was another pause. “Oh my darling,” Loretta cooed in what she thought was her best British accent, “Please stop cooking naked. I told you that was just a game I do for fun. It’s not something you do a daily basis.”

“Mommy,” he whined automatically, hearing James chuckle in the background. “If I do that, I get a suit dirty.”

“Baby bear, I don’t want you to get your special parts burned,” she snapped in that shrill voice he had tried to block from his memories. That Loretta Stinson “You’re little racists” voice. “Put on some clothes this instant.”

“Yes mommy,” he said meekly. The voice won like always.

Loretta instantly cheered up. Obviously she had some vodka and orange juice mixers that were kicking in. Or he had pleased the shrillness. “Oh, Barney dear, this is just going to be a causal sit down this time, so you know what that means?”

“I wear the Calvin Klein?” he asked automatically, slipping into an apron. That counted as clothing, right?

He could sense the wince over the phone as well the impeding shrillness. Somehow his mom held the shrill back. “Not what I was talking about, dear boy.”

Barney’s mind was instantly boggled. “But what could you be talking about?” he whined. “The Calvin Klein is my casual stuff. Mommy, it costs several hundreds of dollars.’

The shrill monster never came. Something that Barney could have never ever predicted came instead. Loretta Stinson cracked up. “Barney, I meant casual clothes. Like jeans and a t-shirt.”

He nearly fainted. Which would have been a bad thing seeing that he needed to still put the pans in the oven and he would end up covered in cake batter. “Mommy, that’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, baby bear,” she said.

“Fine,” he huffed.

“Not that tone, Mister.”

“Yes, Mother.”

\---

She had won. Loretta Stinson’s word was always law. Barney found himself in front of his dresser, pulling out clothing that was only meant for laser tag. Until they found a way to make a suit made for rolling head over heels in. That was the one drawback of suits. They couldn’t survive the rough and tumble that came with the game.

Barney grimaced at the jeans and the t-shirt. Granted they were so expensive that Ted would wear them ironically and call them hipster chic, but he looked so innocent in a boy next door sort of way. It irritated Barney that he didn’t have the dark good look of Sandy Rivers, even if that was a toupee. For one thing he was way too thin, even if years of gym going had finally given him lickable pecs and an ass that you could bounce quarters off of. His forehead was way too big and he had that guy who tragically fell into a taffy-pull machine look to him. The suit made him dangerous and unapproachable.

Out of the suit… it was way too easy.

\---

“You really think that?”

Barney paused and thought about it. “Oh yes. After I finish writing The Playbook, maybe I’ll write a book about my theories. See boys next door are easy. But when you put the suit on.” He gestured at himself. “It doesn’t work well when I’m not wearing the suit, but you get the picture, doctor. It becomes a challenge. Like playing through The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time with Three Hearts. It’s for the hardcore. And I, like my porn, am hardcore.” He held his hand up for a high five.

“Have you forgotten why you’re here? I can always extend the period of your stay.”

“Robin… right…” he said, blinking in remembrance, “Oh yeah. Glad you reminded me, Doc.” He didn’t look too happy to be reminded.

\---

His winter coat and scarf hid his hoodie and whimsical t-shirt away from view, but it didn’t quite hide his jeans or sneakers. Barney quickly padded down the street, cake holder and present balanced in his hand. Luckily, Ted wasn’t around to figure out that he wasn’t in a suit. Ted obviously would take that moment of weakness to point out that if Barney wasn’t in a suit 24/7, then why should he, Theodore Emily Mosby, do the same?

It was the principle of the thing, Barney reflected as he tried to hail a taxi without being seen by anyone who knew him closely. He had already been seen by Mary the Paralegal, who had told him that in casual clothes he has almost looked human. She had also dug his new haircut, but the looking less than godly thing was really bumming him out.

If Ted saw him like this, all suited down, he’d have a field day.

Barney had almost counted his blessings at not being seen by anyone he knew, again, when there she walked, fresh from a camera shoot, obviously, from the stage make up. Robin “Foreign Girl Walking” Scherbatsky herself. Barney tried to shuffle his legs behind a fire hydrant to hide his telltale jeans. “So,” she said, hips swaying from side to side like something out of an old Hollywood flick where the femme fatale walks into the detective’s office, “What brings you on this side of town.”

It’s not “Why not come over and stay awhile,” but it will do.

“I live here,” he deadpanned.

“I work near here,” she deadpanned back. “Didn’t know you could dress down.”

“It’s not a thing,” Barney squeaked, before clearing his throat and saying in his most manly of manliest voices, “It’s not a thing.”

Robin picked up on something, somehow. “Ahhh… so it is a thing. You’re wearing casual clothes to pick up a chick and make her think that you’re nice.”

Hugely relieved, Barney let out a laugh. “Ha, ha, ha. You got me. That’s totally what I’m doing.”

Grinning in satisfaction, Robin pointed at the cake box and wrapped present. “It’s kind of obvious.” She took a look at him. “You cut your hair, blondie.”

“I have a name,” he said, but still pleased that she noticed. “What do you think?”

He hoped that she wouldn’t say, “Don’t worry, it will grow out.”

Robin smiled. “I like it. Makes you look like a young Sting or a John Constantine.” She pronounced the name properly, as ConstanTINE rather than ConstanTEEN which pleased him greatly.

“You read Hellblazer?” And for a moment, he forgot the used q-tip comment about his hair. But then… “Hey, I have a name. It’s not blondie.”

“You never introduced yourself to me,” Robin pointed out, “You kinda sulked and stormed out. But I think I know a friend of yours.”

“Oh?” he pretended to act surprised.

“And you tapped me on the shoulder and went ‘Hi, have you met Ted?’” she asked. “And no, I hadn’t. He comes on a little strong.”

Barney rolled his eyes. “A little strong is putting it lightly.”

Robin exhaled in relief. “So, it’s not just me. Thank God. Who says… hmm hmmm hmmm… on their first date with someone.” She hummed the words instead of saying “I love you”.

Barney found it strangely cute and appealing. He told his inner Barney it was probably just an erection.

“Or skips on laser tag with their BFF,” Barney mumbled to himself.

“What?” Robin must have ears like a fox to peek up on a mumble like that.

Or he wasn’t as good at mumbling as he thought he was. “Nothing,” Barney said, realizing how inappropriate that sounded. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Wait,” she said. “What about your name?”

Barney blinked in surprise and felt a blush coming on. He didn’t expect that. “Wow. Oh wow. You really want to know. It’s Barney. Barney Stinson.”

“Like the character from the Flintstones,” she said. At least she didn’t come up with a Barney the Dinosaur thing that started up when the original VHS tapes starting going around when he was in middle school. “Did the kids ask if you were going to give back Fred’s Fruity Pebbles?”

“Only all the time,” he admitted. “But no. It’s short for Barnaby. My mom’s a huge fan of musicals.”

“I’m drawing a blank,” Robin said. “Didn’t watch a lot of musicals.” 

“It’s from the musical Hello, Dolly!... I’m named after Barnaby Tucker.”

“How cute,” Robin cooed.

“It’s not cute,” Barney snapped back. “I rather be Barnabas. That’s honorable.”

“You’re not Greek.”

“I could be a little.” Barney argued. “That would be awesome.”

Robin giggled, highly amused. “Going by that logic, you could also be a little Canadian.”

Barney shuddered. It was an automatic response brought by the sheer thought of being part Canadian. “Oh Canada no… No!” This time Robin laughed. “Don’t even joke about that.” He glanced at his watch again. “Damn, I’ve really got to go.”

“That scheme, right,” Robin said. “Need help getting a cab?”

“I’m a New Yorker,” he stated.

“Yes,” she returned, “But I have boobs.”

One minute and two unbuttoned buttons later, Robin had found him a cab. “Well, I’ll be,” Barney said, dumbfounded.

“Like I said,” Robin stated, grin on her face. “I have boobs.”

“Yes you do,” slipped out of Barney’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Thank you.”

He had expected to get slapped. Girls generally hated commented about the twins even when the twins were on display. It was a rather mixed message.

That was new.

Different even.

Barney would have to say he liked it. It was hard to explain just why, but he did. There was just something about Robin.

\---

Grossbard paused in his note taking. “So, let me get this right. Even back then, you had feelings for Mrs. Scherbatsky?”

“If by feelings you mean special penis feelings than yes.”

With a slight shake of his head, the doctor continued. “No, what I mean you had a spark of something more than sexual attraction for Robin. You didn’t see a sexual partner. You saw someone who you could be with.”

“She knew John Constantine didn’t just come from some movie played by the guy from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure,” Barney said, trying to get Mr. British Doctor to see that the feelings came later. “That was a feeling of respect.”

“Feelings are still feelings, Barney, regardless of what you think.”

Barney rolled his eyes. “I told you before. Robin’s magic ladybits gave me feelings.”

“Magic ladybits? Barney, is that anything like your healing cock scam?”

“No, that’s My Penis Grants Wishes. Don’t you read my blog?”

“I try not to, but it might help with your treatment.” Doctor Grossbard’s pencil went back to the notepad. “Greatly help. Now, go on?”

“Of course.”

\---

Loretta opened the door. She wasn’t wearing her wig for once since her red-blond was finally long enough to pass her shoulders once more. Years of smoking had caught up with her in a nasty bought of lung cancer that cost her a lobe of her lung. Still, despite the slight glossiness to one of her blue eyes and her still fragile frame, she was able to give Barney a hug.

For a moment, Barney remembered what it was like to be happy. Not just the half-truth that was merely okay, but truly happy. And it didn’t matter that he wasn’t in a suit or he had to lie to make her happy. He was with his mom and that was what matter. “I made your cake just the way you like it.”

“That’s wonderful, Barney,” Loretta proclaimed and took the cake holder from him, peering inside. “Black forest cake. How thoughtful. I don’t know why you don’t open a restaurant of your own.”

“It doesn’t pay as much,” he wanted to say, but he knew he’d get smacked for his lip. “Awww, mommy,” he “whined” softly, “I’m not good for pro-level.”

“Oh come on,” she said, “You have the talent for it. You were the best barista at the coffee house. And there was the job you had at that teppanyaki place. You were one of the best Hibachi chefs at Shinjitsu. You have the special do-anything talent that can take you anywhere.”

“Really-really?” Barney squeaked. When she said it that way, he felt like he could almost believe it. Almost. “You really think so?”

“I really do,” Loretta said sweetly. “I worry about what you do for a living. Corporate Espionage is going to get you killed. I don’t care if you’re one of the youngest billionaires in the world.” 

\---

“That of course, doesn’t leave the office,” Barney said.

“I’m bound by doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Because if you did, I won’t be your best friend or get you a good suit.”

“I’m bound by doc-“

“You have to pinky swear that details of my job will not leave this room!” Barney suddenly blurted out.

Grossbard decided not argue a third time. “Fine, I pinkie promise.”

Barney ambled out of the chair and wrapped his pinkie around Grossbard’s. The look on his face was quite comically serious. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Repeat.” It was utterly childish and utterly Barney Stinson.

He went along with it to humor a patient. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” He paused. “Do I have to say repeat?”

“No.” Barney unhooked his pinky finger. “It would have been funny if you had. You doctors are so by the book.”

Grossbard decided to not tell him that was not what by the book meant. It was refreshing that for once Barney wasn’t being so stubborn. But at the same time, Barney was taking the long route. Still, this was valuable information and would be a shame to let it go to waste. In the past hour, he had manage to gain more about Barney than he had since their first session in 1999 when Barney had still had a candy floss goatee and ponytail.

Only a fool would try to steer the conversation back to the present. “So, what happened after that?”

\---

“But, mommy…”

“I just want you to be happy.” Loretta paused. “Barney… are you happy? With your wife? It just seems like you ran into marriage just for my sake.”

“Mommy…”

“There’s nothing wrong with divorce, baby. Are you happy or do you enjoy making me happy?”

Barney paused, shuffling Loretta’s present from hand to hand. “Do we have to discuss this outside, mommy?”

Loretta shook her head. “Of course not. Come on inside, put up your coat. Stay a while.”

The instant they were inside, Loretta walked in the kitchen to put the cake up. Barney could hear the oohs and aahs from James and Loretta’s friends. He didn’t hear Rhonda’s voice among them. He would have liked to hear how the woman he first nailed was doing. It was great from them both after all.

Maybe he was so great, that she had become a nun, he thought as he added his present to the pile.

\---

But was it… really?

\---

1998

“I c-changed my mind,” he whimpered as Rhonda’s cigarette-breath still lingered his mouth.

Her tongue had probed the depths of his mouth and he didn’t feel more like a man, he felt less. He couldn’t see past the tangles of his hair, somehow she had loosed his hair from his ponytail and like a Shetland pony he was effectively blind.

Rhonda was going for other waters. Namely the button and zipper of his jeans. His whimper of fear must have been mistaken for a whimper of delight, because Rhonda husked, “Yeah, me too Barry.”

“Barney,” he rasped out. It wasn’t the first time, she had gotten a name wrong. She called his mom Patty and his brother Joshua. “My name is Barney.”

She didn’t pay any attention to him, well, not to his face. His pant were unceremoniously unbuttoned and unzipped, her awful tongue, licking his traitorous dick proudly stiff. “My, my, my…” he heard her say, “You Stinson boys are well hung. Let’s see what you can offer.”

“No… I changed my mind. I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna.”

The next thing he knew there was a condom on his wilted penis and Rhonda was rubbing his arm. “Hey, kiddo… Barry… lots of guys get cold feet…”

Barney sniffed, snot trickling into his long hair. “I’m not lots of guys.”

“Barry…” Rhonda paused as if trying to thinking of what to say. “You’ve got a big dick and one day you may use it well… it was your first time…”

“W-we—wuh-well….what are you saying?” Barney stumbled over his words, trying to make sense of it.

Rhonda gave him a cigarette-stained smile. “I’m saying you’re the best I ever had, Barry.”

\---

Barney lingered in the living room, coat still on. As long as he still had it, that still meant some suited up, right? As long as he was suited up, he could face the world and all of its unknowns.

That was… until Loretta came back in.

“Oh, Barney, I thought I told you to take that coat off. You must be frying.”

“I like my coat,” he said.

“Barney,” came a hint of the shrill.

He handed the coat and scarf over to her. Barney the awesome was gone. In his place was Barney the screw up, like he had never left. “Okay, mom. I suited down.”

Loretta hugged him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He felt her stroke the back of his neck gently. “Your haircut is so becoming on you. I like it better than the one you had last week.”

Barney did a double take. “What was wrong with my haircut?”

“Well, to be honest, it looked like a sheep’s ass.”

“A cute sheep’s ass?” Barney asked.

“No, dear, just a sheep’s ass.”

Somehow even from there, he could feel Robin’s gloating. “Hey, mom… before I forget, did you send out my letter to Uncle Jerry?”

Loretta froze like a deer in the headlights. “I did.”

“And?”

“He’s not going to make it,” Loretta said, a bit stiffly. Barney figured she was holding back the tears. “I’m sorry, but he just can’t.”

He decided to reassure her. “It’s okay, mom. If Bob Barker couldn’t come, that would be sad. And we know he can’t come because he’s hosting the price is right. But Uncle Jerry is probably still mad at me for the Blue Whale thing. Besides… he’s just my Uncle, so it’s not a big deal. Really. So smile, mom. It’s your birthday.”

\---

Thud, thud, thud.

Doctor Grossbard had stopped taking notes, had removed his glasses and was now pounding his forehead against the desk.

Thud, thud, thud.

“Hey, doctor?” Barney asked, leaning forward of concern. “Why are you doing that?”

Thud, thud, thud.

“If you keep doing that, you’ll get so many splinters in your forehead, you’ll be reclassified as furniture by federal law and you’ll have to buff that thing with lemon Pledge.”

Grossbard stopped in mid-thud. “Why don’t you take a quick cigarette break?” he suggested. “Let off some steam.”

The younger man’s eyes and face lit up. “Sweet. Lighter too?”

As soon as he had both, Barney scampered out of the room. Grossbard rubbed his head feeling a headache come on. It was a combination that was -partly from pounding his head against the desk, but mostly from frustration. “Damnit, Loretta… what’s so wrong with telling Barney that Jerome Whittaker is his father?”


End file.
